‘Is that what you mean by butterkuchen? Well, I think you’re playing around,’ he said. He got to his feet and taking a robe off the back of a mirror he threw it into her lap. ‘Cover yourself up or I’ll leave this instant.’
Imogen giggled nervously. Frankly, she didn’t know what she wanted. She felt scared and confused. She wanted love so desperately she’d do anything for it and yet she was so petrified she dare not risk it, and then there was the other aspect of it. The fact she genuinely liked Michael but she knew if she got to know him in anything but a superficial sense, she’d have to start explaining, and explaining could be so difficult when she didn’t know where to start.
‘The last time I saw such erotic behaviour was with this broad called Rocella. She was my girlfriend for a while when I was in Brazil and she liked to pose whenever she could in the nude.’ Michael strolled back to the bed with his hands in his pockets. ‘She oozed sex. She’d pose on chairs and on the edge of her bathtub where she’d sit combing her long wet hair and smoothing it between her breasts. She even stripped off and posed nude on the back seat of my Sedan. Until you, I thought she was the sexiest woman I’d ever encountered. However, to my mind there’s nothing more erotic than a woman semi-clad in silk stockings.’
‘And what happened to this whore?’ Imogen asked, leaning forward and sliding her arms into the sleeves of the robe.
‘She wasn’t marriage material and she didn’t tell me she had a boyfriend who was a drug baron.’
‘Ah, I see.’ Imogen got up and plucked a photograph from out of a crack in the dressing table mirror. She held it out. ‘This is my mother, Michael. Everyone thought she was exceedingly beautiful and very sexy. My mother was German but she went to live in Paris just before the war. She worked for Cervin. You must have heard of Cervin? They make the finest silk stockings in the world. It was heaven for mother, a dream come true. You see, she had incredible legs and she also had this great love of silk stockings. It’s a curse this thing the Heinemann women have with the legs and the stockings. Anyway, she’d do anything for a pair of fine silk stockings and didn’t consider herself dressed without them.’
Imogen held out the photograph. ‘Here take it and have a good look. Doesn’t she look lovely? Very sophisticated and quite the lady. Mother was so poor, you know, but she always made the best of herself and wore the best hose money could buy. She said it was essential a woman complete her dress with a pair of fine silk stockings as that was the only way she would seduce and marry a rich man. Mother was of the philosophy that stockings made a woman a true lady but at the same time a whore … and men love a lady with such a dual personality. It’s a man’s wet dream to have a lady on his arm to show to his friends and a whore in the bedroom. Well, one day she was coming out of the factory and she caught the eye of this man. A rich industrialist. The man fell in love with the whore of stockings and he used to follow her. At first it scared Mother a little bit so she tried to confound him. She’d walk much further than she needed to. Taking circuitous routes and staying on the metro and going to stops she didn’t really want, to try and give him the slip. But he loved her and I’m led to believe it’s impossible to shake off a man once he loves you.’ Imogen glanced at Michael and saw he was in raptures over the story. ‘The trouble is, having never been in love like that, how would I know whether that’s true or not? The man pushed her into a doorway and tried to seduce her. His hands were all over her fine silk stockings and he kept saying. I’m in love with you, Marianne. Give me a stocking as a memento and I’ll leave my wife.’
Imogen took a loose stocking off her dressing table and holding it like a scarf she used it as a screen, stretching it tightly across her mouth. ‘I think all the Heinemann women from the dawn of time must have been silk stocking coquettes, because my mother unclipped and unrolled her stocking right there in the street and rubbing it in her cunt and pushing it inside her vagina which was so wet for this man who she fancied like hell … she held it out and she said, “Here’s a gift for you.” The man laughed and he said, “You’re adorable, you whore. I love you.” Then he smelt the stocking and he said, “There’s no smell like your cunt. I could find your cunt in the whole of Paris from this stocking.” He got mother a job modelling for a fashion house and she was good at it, she was taller than me, she was made to wear good clothes not just Cervin.’
‘I don’t believe that,’ Michael said.
‘You can believe what you choose, Michael. Well it was inevitable she’d fall in love since my mother was such a romantic woman. All the Heinemanns are senseless in love. But it was complicated you know, love’s always so complicated.’
Imogen retrieved the picture and, kissing her finger and placing it on her mother’s face, she placed the photograph back in the frame of the mirror. ‘Mother had an affair with the man, it lasted nearly ten years. She was very much in love and as a result here I am. Yes, Michael, I’m a chip off the old block since I’m the bastard daughter of – how should we say? – the prostitute of the leg or the woman in the silk stockings. That’s why I’m a crazy broad.’
‘What happened?’ Michael asked.
‘He left her stranded when she got pregnant, as most married men do. Mama had a great deal of money by then but she was so sad, she just spent it, spent it on good things to make her forget. You know – nice clothes for me, tea at the Ritz. Money is like water through a bucket though, and soon spilt.’
‘What a sad story,’ Michael said.
‘It wasn’t easy for my mother.’ She smiled at him in the mirror. ‘I hate sad stories don’t you?’
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I only deal in happy endings and what about you, have you ever been in love?’
Imogen’s heart was fluttering. ‘Good question. Frankly, I don’t know. Once I thought I was, but now I’m not so sure. Love is so many things.’
‘I only deal in true love, passionate one and only love. Like I only deal in those happy endings.’ Michael grinned.
Imogen bit her lip because she was inclined to believe him, there was something about the great Michael Levenstein.
‘You see.’ She held up the silk stocking, waving it back and forth like a used condom. ‘These are the only kind I wear. The first time I wore silk stockings was when I was six. I looked funny. I stole mother’s stockings and I pulled them on. They were much too long for me, though, and kept falling off. I must have made such a comical picture. And, they’ll also be the last thing I wear, Michael. Because I want to be buried in a casket wearing the most expensive silk stockings money can buy. Don’t you think I’m a bit of a caution? Aren’t I a little bit too hot to handle?’
Imogen couldn’t tear her gaze away as she stared at him in the mirror and then she began to unpin her long blonde hair shaking it out and brushing it with long strokes of her hairbrush. A disturbing idea had come into her head, a “what if?” idea. What if I fucked Michael? Who would know and it’s cold and coming winter and I need the warmth and it could feel so good to fuck and then have a man, a nice man like Michael to twist and curl around – and if I asked him to leave before it got light so no one saw, I’m sure it would be all right. Taking a deep breath, she said, ‘I’m giving you one last chance to go before, well … you know.’
‘What kind of an opt out clause?’ Michael enquired, staring at her breasts which gave her a weird shiver.
‘Yes, in legal terms I guess that’s it. Do you always think in legal terms?’
She came and sat beside him and he took her hand and twining his fingers through hers he held them to her mouth in an oddly old-fashioned gesture. ‘Sure.’ He was thoughtful. ‘But, when I came up here I knew I wouldn’t leave.’
‘This is a fuck, right?’ Imogen said quietly, as she studied the sensitive bow of his mouth and leaning forward kissed him lightly. ‘And that’s all it is? It’d be stupid in view of all the dark things in my life, to think that it could go further. And, what are you – a travelling salesman? And isn’t that what travelling salesmen do?
Fuck and move on?’
Michael shrugged as she undid one of his buttons and touched the throbbing pulse at his throat.
‘Perhaps, I have secrets of my own and my life isn’t what you think.’
‘What, you’re a communist spy or something? Come on,’ Imogen coaxed.
‘I might be.’ He paused and his breath was warm and sweet on her hand. ‘Would it excite you if you thought I was a spy?’
‘No, I don’t think it would, I’ve had enough intrigue in my life.’
Michael kissed her and each of her fingers.
‘So,’ she said eventually. ‘What kind of a fantasy do you have? Is it of the general kind? For instance, how would you like it if I took a pair of my fine silk stockings and I tied you hand and foot to the bed?’ Strolling to her chest of drawers she tugged it open and out spilled a profusion of stockings. ‘Once I saw a woman struggling into a pair of cheap stockings in a public toilet. She took them out of her shopping bag. They were so vulgar it made me feel sick. I could never wear those ghastly things. No, for me it must be the best and as a result, I’ll always be poor. Here, handle these and you’ll see what I mean.’
Imogen took a packet and slowly she began extracting the silk stockings, rubbing them across her nose and mouth before handing one to Michael. ‘These are the finest stockings money can buy. They’re the Cervin. You see, they’re so fine. Only one denier and so incredibly thin they’re like a second skin. A pair of these stockings is really expensive and you can only buy them in the most exclusive boutiques. When I go into a shop and I buy a pair of these, it’s such a treat I feel like a queen. You see why I have to do stupid things such as private shows for perverts like Gunter, and the dance classes at the seedy little club. It’s so I can have life’s simple silk pleasures. I can tell you Cervin gives me a better orgasm than any man.’
She sat back down on the bed beside Michael. ‘You can move my stuff, you know. You’re still sitting on my panties and you’re wriggling like a worm. Poor Michael!’ Taking the silk stocking from his fingers and smiling she stretched it across his mouth. ‘So you have a little thing for the silk stockings.’
‘Not just any silk stockings. Your silk stockings, Imogen.’
She forced him back on the bed. ‘There, lie down.’ And she began trailing the silk stocking over his face. ‘I think this is how my mother must have felt.’ Imogen placed her hand on her breast and moved it around. ‘Oh yes. I think her heart was going pitter-patter, pitter-patter and that was the moment she knew she was in love. You’re a handsome man, Mr Levenstein. But you know that, don’t you? I only read the short article in the magazine, so I hardly know anything about you. Do you keep a low profile in your private life? Are you married? I expect like mother’s lover, you’ll turn out to be married.’
‘No, I’m not married.’ His green eyes fixed on hers, travelled over her face, it was more than lust and the thought of what could be terrified her.
Imogen’s fingers were loosening his other shirt buttons one by one. ‘There, I think you’ll feel a little bit more relaxed if I loosen you up. You’re a little uptight and shy but I enjoy that and everything you think shows in your eyes as well. You have expressive eyes, Mr Levenstein.’ And she continued to trail the stocking across his face as, lying extremely close to Michael, she pressed her thigh to his leg and her breasts against his shirt, which she was finishing unbuttoning and stripping away from his body. Each time she moved he could hear the thrilling crackle of silk as she rubbed her legs up and down his pants.
‘So, if you don’t want to be tied to the bed with my silk stockings. What do you want?’ Perhaps you’d like to tie me to the bed with them instead. Or ...’ Placing her mouth on his she began kissing him with rapier sharp kisses. ‘… Perhaps you’d like me to play with the silk stockings like this? Watch, Michael.’ And, stretching the stockings between her fingers, she straddled him on the bed and with her tongue balancing provocatively on the edge of her lips, she took a fine pair of the Cervin, tying one silk stocking around the groin of her left leg and one around the right before pressing one of the limp pieces of silk to Michael’s lips.
Michael kissed the stocking and ran his tongue all over it until it was wet.
Next, Imogen stretched behind her and fastening the end of the stocking to her suspender belt she tugged it forward through her sex slit and fastened it with a loop at the front.
Michael was speechless and holding his breath. Static surges of lust were pulsing through his system as he fought the uncontrollable urge to roll her on to her back and plunge his swollen cock straight into her.
Imogen wriggled forward until her ripe spilt peach was resting by his mouth.
‘You made me a chastity belt?’ he whispered.
‘Yes,’ Imogen replied. ‘And tomorrow I won’t wear my panties to work. I’ll wear nothing but this chastity belt, beneath my clothes.’
Michael stared into her face as he trailed his finger across her cheeks. ‘You’re extraordinary,’ he said. ‘You fascinate me and I think I love you.’
‘Are you sure about that, baby? Are you sure you’re not in love with my silk stockings?’
‘Yes, naturally I adore your silk stockings, but I also love everything about you. Say! Why don’t you marry me and I could buy you a wardrobe of Cervin?’
‘You’re a funny guy,’ Imogen shrieked. ‘I don’t know whether to take you seriously or not.’ And with two or three deft jerks she ripped the recalcitrant zipper down over his erection and pulling down his pants, Imogen gave a sigh as she sat staring at his tumescent erection. After several seconds of studious contemplation she leapt on the bed and lying back on the pillows with her arms above her head she dragged her fingers through her abundant hair.
‘There now you can finger my silk stockings.’
‘First of all, I’d like you to take them off,’ Michael said. ‘And next I want you to put them back on again, very slowly.’
‘Oh, that’s easily done,’ Imogen said, sitting up and unclipping one of the stockings from her suspender belt and rolling it down her leg. ‘There, is that how you like it? Did you realise there’s great skill to putting on and taking off a pair of silk stockings? Shall I show you Michael?’
Removing the silk stocking completely, she threw it on the bed before unrolling the other one. Michael took each one and held it to his nose, then he stroked the pale flesh of Imogen’s leg right up to her crotch and the pouting peachy flesh and back down again.
‘You don’t just pull on a silk stocking,’ Imogen continued, wriggling to the edge of the bed and then getting to her feet to fetch another packet of the Cervin. ‘It’s an art and you have to do it like this. Many years ago, I did a striptease in a small bar in Marseille. I was so good at taking the stockings on and off I drove all the guys crazy.’
Tearing the packet open, she held the stockings to her nose. ‘I simply adore the smell of new silk stockings.’ And then, with her gaze firmly fixed on Michael, she opened the stocking suggestively before easing her hand inside and placing her foot on the bed. ‘Look how fine this is. You could put your finger through it really easily. That’s why I keep my nails this short … and when you hold it up to your eyes you can see straight through it.’ Imogen held the hose up to her face creating a veil.
Michael’s erection surged forward painfully and he covered the thrusting tumescence with his hand. Through the fine silk, Imogen was blinking and fluttering her eyelashes at him. It was like watching a beautiful woman through the frosted lens of a camera.
‘Pay attention.’ Raising her foot and balancing on one leg she flexed her toes and wriggling them, she eased the stocking over her foot and up her heel before unrolling it over her leg and drawing it up her thigh, and all to the delicious accompaniment of the hiss of fine silk.
‘It’s necessary to flex the leg and adjust the silk exceedingly carefully. There’s no nylon in these stockings, you see, and absolutely no give.’ Her tongue was balancing on her lip in concentratio
n. ‘You must be careful you don’t tear them. You slide the stocking up the thigh, not too slowly and not too fast. Smoothing it on, just so.’ With a deft flick of her finger she attached the stocking to the suspender belt. Then she moved her leg this way and that. ‘You must agree the wearing of a silk stocking is an art?’
‘Yes I agree. Now, darling Imogen. Let me put on the other one.’
‘But you will be careful, won’t you?. You’ll do it carefully so you don’t tear it?’
Before she could move out of the way Michael had tumbled Imogen onto the bed, pulling her full lips down onto his and kissing her while Imogen, giggling and trembling with excitement, beat him gently with the other silk stocking. ‘You promise, don’t you, Michael.’
‘I promise,’ he said, gripping a handful of her hair and holding her head still. ‘Imogen you’re really something, do you know that? I love you. Marry me. I’m not kidding. I’d buy out Cervin for you. Your wardrobe could be full of silk stockings.’
‘Aha! A hostile takeover. So, you think you can buy me with silk stockings, huh?’ And as Michael squeezed her breasts and nibbled on her nipples, Imogen’s hand reached down and making a noose and twisting the silk stocking around and around his swollen dick, she pulled harder and harder whilst her hand alternately played up and down his shaft and her agile fingers tightened the diaphanous silk.
Then flopping back on the bed with her hair loose around her shoulders, she raised her leg, and Michael placed his hand in one of the discarded stockings and began unrolling it on to her foot. He kissed each square inch of flesh before proceeding to the next. Eventually, with shaking fingers, he attached the stocking to the suspender and pressing his hand between the stocking clad thighs, he buried his mouth in her thatch and pulling aside the wet silk chastity belt he tongued her to a gently crooning orgasm.
‘I can’t wait,’ Michael said kissing her and feeling the roll of her hips beneath his. ‘Untie the stocking from my dick and let me fuck you.’
Seduce: A Cariad Romance Three Book Bundle (Cariad Collections) Page 18